Rhapsody
by Mitsima
Summary: Two unlikely people meet on the street and come to some sort of mutual understanding. Revolves around unexpected pair.


Rhapsody

By Mitsima

8/20/03

"The lamp hummed…

The reminiscence comes

Of sunless dry geraniums

And dust in crevices,

Smells of chestnuts in the streets,

And female smells in shuttered rooms,

And cigarettes in corridors

And cocktail smells in bars."

- T.S. Eliot

"Rhapsody on a Windy Night"

It wasn't a dark and stormy night. Nor was it a midnight dreary with someone pondering weak and weary. The sky was not yet dark and the rainfall had not yet turned stormy, but in the not-yet-night air there stood a young someone against the wall of a small hostess bar, drenched in the lazy red light of sunset. Silent there, with a cigarette burning away untended, he watched the rain as it hit the black pavement of the city and evaporated into nothing- as quickly as it fell. His glasses fogged up with the humidity.

He inhaled the air around him- smoke from his cigarette, the sticky heady cigar scent of half-drunken men inside, wet leaves, the bakery across the street, brewing coffee, electricity flowing through the dull wind- and exhaled absentmindedly.

Sighing, Tachibana took off his glasses and used a handkerchief to wipe off the sweat that had accumulated on the bridge of his nose. Without the lenses and behind the curtain of water which trickled endlessly off the tiled roof, Tachibana saw the world melt into an eccentrically serene watercolor of neon lights, red paper lanterns, and black streets. He closed his eyes as the haziness of the heat crept through his sticky clothes- only to be broken as a tall shadow crashed through the watery barrier that separated Tachibana from the rest of the world, the intrusion casing a spray of rain to wake him from his reverie.

The recognition sunk in slowly, the feeling being akin to remembering a friend while dreaming. The face was the same, yet its detachment from the normal circumstances of interaction shrouded the identity in a veil of estrangement.

"Kubota," Tachibana greeted as he replaced his glasses, the syllables falling heavily from his lips with the sweet thickness of honey. The name finally uttered, the world shifted back to a more lucid reality. Kubota was drenched, his white uniform shirt sopping wet and clinging to his lanky body. His glasses were equally steamed up, causing both to regard one another in a foggy semi-blindness. 

"Vice president?" he blinked, and then proceeded to set down a bag of Chinese carry out. Two sets of wooden chopsticks stuck out from the opening, Tachibana noted with more than slight interest. _Then it's true…_

"So you're waiting out the rain, too, huh?" said Kubota. He stuck his hands into his pockets and looked out across the street where a small kitten lingered under the protective doorframe of a closed shop. He looked at the kitten. The kitten looked back. "I guess I have a bit of company for a while." 

"Not really." Tachibana smiled, contemplating the possibilities opened to him by this chance encounter. "Oh, but not with reference to company, because there's no denying you that much. I'm here as long as you decide to wait around. Thing is…" 

That sturdy little thread connecting Kubota and Matsumoto, for example- he had always been curious about it. Tachibana pursed his lips together. Never mind. _Jealousy is a foolish emotion anyway and foolishness is always rewarded with something equally stupid.  _"Well, I live here if you must know. Not very humble, but it's home nevertheless."

"The Hinoki Teahouse," Kubota read aloud as he produced a rather moist packet of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. 

"You know of it?"

"A bit. Enough to know that it's not just a teahouse." To compliment, roaring laugher erupted from behind the elaborately carved door followed by the flirtatious giggles of younger women. Beyond that, the dissonant sounds of bad karaoke. 

For a long moment the vice president didn't speak, the shame seeping in like water through a thatched roof making it sag under its own weight. A fleeting expression of disgust crossed Tachibana's graceful features before he worked himself back to a placid apathy. "A financial decision that now pays for my tuition at Araiso. I'm not one to complain. That said, I will put my trust in your discretion."

"Sure. As always, ne?" the other boy smiled that disarming smile of his. "Would have been more convenient just to lie to me, though." As he stood there, rivulets of water streamed down his face and forearms yet he seemed unfazed and perfectly comfortable. Maybe he wasn't, but that was Kubota Makoto for you. He'd smile through an earthquake. 

A woman and child holding hands passed by beneath the cover of a rainbow umbrella. The child skipped through darkening puddles of red light as the umbrella ran to catch up with her. 

"Hold _on_ dear. Daddy will still be home no matter how slow we walk!" 

"But I wanna see him now!"

They had fallen into a companionable silence, looking at the scene that had unfolded before them. The sky seemed to grow darker as the girl's voice and the multicolored umbrella faded away with distance, their presence remembered only by the rippling puddles. Night was approaching and the rain kept coming. One by one, the streetlamps flickered to life, shining a garish yellow through the coming black. Then Tachibana saw- in Kubota and in himself- that same hidden wistfulness.

"Come in. Matsumoto wouldn't be pleased if I sat by while you got sick by my lack of hospitality."

It was a dark and stormy night. Hot inside. Hot outside. There really wasn't anywhere to escape from it. Upon entering the hostess bar, the two boys instantly found themselves within a cloud of cigar smoke and giggles. Music undulated in the background. 

Within an instant, a woman draped herself around Tachibana. "Mmmmm…Tachibana-kun…" she crooned sweetly, her breath tinged with expensive alcohol. Bombay Sapphire, dry and bitter, Tia Maria, like coffee, Kaiparinia, sweet and lemony. "Come and join the fun…" A stray hand made its way into his shirt. "Just once, hm? You never want to have fun with us."

"My apologies," said Tachibana mechanically as if he were used to suffering through similar advances. He drew away. "Get back to work, Miyumi, before my mother catches you wasting time." Then to Kubota, "Best we go upstairs. I don't really take well to this part of my home."

"You're the host." 

With a furtive glance and a silently inquiring eye, Tachibana said nothing, shrugged, then led him towards the back doorway. Puddles marked their short journey, a tepid blue in the dim light of the room. Pretty girls. Splashes of paid-for drinks. And on a barstool sat an older woman in an expensive kimono, extremely beautiful in a most natural way, but with a sadness to her eyes that made Kubota want to look away. 

"Haruka." She pulled Tachibana off to the side. Her face lit up. "Introduce me."

"This is Kubota, a classmate of mine who is in the EC." If his voice could turn any more tender, this was it- and surprisingly enough, it i_wasn't/i_ for a certain president. "I've spoken of him, haven't I? Kubota, this is my mother."

"Nice to meet ya." Kubota saluted, the action flinging more water around. A drop landed on her sleeve. "Eh. Sorry 'bout that. Bringing the rain inside wasn't really something I was planning on." Though it seemed- strangely enough- as if it had been raining in here for quite some time. "Man, I really didn't want to be introduced to your mother looking like a wet cat, her being real beautiful and all. Maybe a rat. I think I look like a rat, I-"

Then that little bit of sadness, it wasn't so much there anymore and Kubota could look her in the eye. He smiled, though he still dripped; not so much a rat at all. _A puppy.__ Like a puppy that was playing in the rain, _she thought. Beautiful. How long had it been since somebody called her that? Her lips twitched into a little smile which she soon covered with a glass of water. She sipped elegantly, careful not to damage her lipstick, then worked her face into a state of bored coolness so similar to that of her son. "I like him, Haruka. Bring him by more often. It's nice to have new faces around here. And you don't have nearly enough frien-"

"Yes, mother." Tachibana cut in. "Well, I just wanted to introduce the two of you. We'll be going upstairs now." 

She gave him a look. A gently arched eyebrow and a playful little smirk. 

"_No_, mother."

"Whatever you say, Haruka."

The two took their leave. The back door of the bar led to a set of narrow wooden stairs that were worn smooth with age, yet dustlessly pristine as if someone had taken the pains to clean out every nook on its decaying surface. 

Tachibana _did _ look tired. 

The kitchen was small, but clean. Dried herbs hung from cabinets in neat rows. The scent of lavender perfume wafted out from a partially closed bedroom. Unoccupied. His mother's. On meticulously painted walls, traditional Japanese scroll paintings were making company with Renaissance portraiture. Forgotten laundry hanging out to dry, but wasn't dry anymore. Small hallways. Distinctly Tachibana, both mother or son, yet missing one. Then there, the third, on a picture frame by the couch: a dignified man whose image had gone sepia by the constant barrage of incense smoke that smelled of pine. 

"You made her laugh again," was all the other boy said to Kubota as they passed the picture and made their way into Tachibana's room.

"I guess I did."

Thunder rattled the walls of the dwelling. The lights blinked, becoming brighter with one last surge of energy before resigning itself to a total darkness. 

"Well I guess there's no point in me leaving the room for you to change when I can't see you anyway," Tachibana said, grabbing some clothes from the closet and rummaging through places in the room Kubota couldn't see. "Say something so I know where you are."

"Something!"

 Tachibana sighed and shook his head, moving to hand over the clothes yet only managing to overestimate his distance from Matsumoto's _other-once-before-maybe…_

He had stepped too close and even though he couldn't see Kubota, he could feel his breath as they stood there blindly eye to eye.

…so yes he was still quite curious about what the entire thing was between those two and why Matsumoto would think of Kubota more than just from time to time perhaps it was something about him that even his mother would smile; smile for him and not even for _him, _her own son. That smile reserved for father, what was it about him? This close and here now, Tachibana could find out if he should ever desire to…

 He leaned forward, lips grazing the corner of Kubota's mouth to plant a light kiss there. Tachibana made a move to continue, but something in the back of his mind held him back. It was like the sounds of morning pulling him out of a particularly pleasant dream; like that first moment of wakefulness where the physical discomfort of reality decided to manifest itself in a manner he did not wish it to.  

"That one's on the house," he whispered curtly before shoving him a handful of clothes and turning briskly away. "This too." And Kubota could hear the clunk of a can being set down on the low table, amplified by a flash of thunder and a look in Tachibana's eyes that made him want to look away.

As Kubota changed, the vice president stretched himself out on a floor pillow and turned to stare at the wall, a frown pulling down the sides of his mouth.

There wouldn't have been a point to it at all. Absolutely no point. One does not attempt to unlock a door with yet another lock and yet that was how they were: closed and destined to know nothing more than each other's surface. Sex wasn't even necessary. Tachibana could feel it even before it happened, supposing that Kubota would have allowed it to happen in the first place. Highly unlikely, given that another _other_ was present.

The smell of Chinese food grew stronger in the darkness. A bag rustled. Food was pulled out. Two chopsticks were emptied out onto the table. "You know, vice president, the food won't walk over too you."

"I'm surprised you haven't walked out already."

"Got hungry. Doesn't look like I'm gonna get home any time soon anyway."

"Mmh."

"I said I'd wait it out with you, too. Won't do to go back on my word."

"No, it wouldn't do, would it?" Tachibana said, pushing himself up and crawling over to the low table. 

Kubota handed him a bowl of rice. "This one's on the house."

"My thanks," was the reply. "Really. You don't even know the half of it." A pause. "You're out of cigarettes aren't you?"

"Yeah." 

"I'll share today, but…"

"Understood. Vice president doesn't smoke. My lips are sealed."

"Indeed."

They smoked after they ate. As the stormy night went on, their eyes adjusted to the dark, though they had been able to see each other long before. 


End file.
